by Lora Leigh
“The bed is not negotiable.” He felt the need to warn her of that right up front.
She turned slowly, the office chair squeaking a bit as she faced him fully.
“No, it isn’t negotiable,” she promised with a smile so falsely sweet that he wondered if it were possible to develop a sugar high from it. “My bed. Period. You, Mr. Sloane, can sleep on the damned floor for all I care.”
Micah propped his booted feet on the coffee table, laced his hands over his abs, and smiled back at her. “Bet me.”
CHAPTER 16
BET ME!
It was a damned good thing she hadn’t bet him, because he had ended up sleeping in her bed. Right in the middle. His hand on her hip all night long.
Sleeping wasn’t something Risa had managed much of that night, which left her crankier than normal the next morning. Cranky, angry, and hurt.
She couldn’t believe he was that desperate to get rid of her. And if he was that desperate, why was he sleeping in the middle of her bed and touching her all night long?
She was greeted when she awoke to another replay of the newscaster going over the wreck and attempted kidnapping that had occurred, as well as phone calls from various news agencies. It seemed everyone was interested in Risa Clay again. Six years of anonymity shot to hell. Once again her face was plastered on the television screen.
To make matters worse, they were supposed to go out. Dinner and dancing, he had informed her over breakfast. Oh yeah, she was all up for dinner and dancing.
It was no surprise when a courier from one of the more expensive boutiques arrived that day with more new clothes, and Risa felt her temper rising that much further.
“You’re staying, then you have to play the part,” Micah informed her as she glared at the dresses, skirts, and tops laid out on her bed. “Trust me, Orion and his employer have run my background. They know the information we put out there for them to find. If you want his employer pushing him, then you’ll play the part. The faster we finish this, the faster you can get on with your life.”
He stared at her with that calculating look in his eye that he had held all morning. As though he were figuring out a puzzle, working the pieces and trying to make them fit.
She wasn’t a puzzle.
“If they researched you, then they researched me,” she told him between clenched teeth. “I wouldn’t wear clothes like this.”
“You wore clothes exactly like this the first night I met you,” he pointed out, and Risa felt her blood pressure rising. At this rate, she was going to end up having a stroke. “But if you can’t wear them.” He shrugged philosophically as he eyed her with a mocking look in his eyes. “I’m sure we can make allowances.”
As though she were too scared to wear them.
She stared down at the dresses. Maybe she was just frankly terrified of wearing them. Clothes like that made a woman feel daring; they made her feel as though she could conquer mountains. And Risa knew she wasn’t quite up to mountains yet. She couldn’t even conquer Micah.
The dresses were short; the skirts were short. The tops were sexy and the shoes were high-heeled and daring. She was going to so get in trouble wearing those clothes. Clothes she had once been terrified of. But not now. Not now because she knew she could wear them. She had worn the dress the other night, and the shoes. It wasn’t the clothes that caused her to swallow tightly. It was the man and the look in his eyes as he glanced from the clothes to her.
“I don’t need you to make allowances for anything.” Damn her pride. “If you can stand to pay for it, then I can wear it.”
His brow arched. “Don’t let your mouth write checks your body can’t cash, sweetheart. Because trust me, I know exactly how to dress a woman for prime impact.”
Her smile was tight. “You don’t scare me, Micah,” she scoffed. He terrified a part of her. Another part was ready and rearing to challenge him.
She was tired of being manipulated. She was sick of being worked. He wanted to use her and walk away later, fine and dandy, because she wasn’t above using the security he offered her to gain a little self-confidence, somewhere. Maybe.
His smile curled a little wider, that luscious bottom lip tempting her even as the smile pissed her off.
“I should scare you.” He leaned closer, those lips within inches of hers now. “Because what those clothes will do to that luscious body of yours will make me hard, Risa. Hard and hungry. If you take the kid gloves off and decide to tempt the tiger, baby, then expect to have a bite taken out of that lovely hide of yours.”
“By you?” She sniffed as though in doubt when inside she was shaking. “I’m sure you can handle the pressure.”
She doubted she blipped on his radar any more than it took to make him hard. Some men any woman could arouse. Maybe Micah was one of those men.
She picked up the closest outfit and just barely managed not to cringe. At least she liked the color. The chocolate brown silk would complement her coloring; the short length would compliment her legs. The matching shoes, high-heeled of course, were gorgeous. The scalloped bodice would be lucky to cover her breasts, and the thin straps didn’t look strong enough to hold it up.
Micah’s brows lifted at her choice. “I especially liked that one when I chose it from the website,” he murmured. “Daring, Risa. Very daring.”
With that, he turned and walked from the room, the door closing behind him as Risa let out a hard breath and looked at the dress again.
Oh, she was in so much trouble here. This dress was so outside the realm of anything she would have chosen to wear. Dreamed of wearing, yes. That fantasy Risa who was daring and unafraid would have worn it in a New York minute.
But the other Risa, the one who had learned to be cautious all her life, was shaking in her jeans and bare feet. That Risa was certain lightning was going to strike and turn her to ash for wearing such a dress.
In for a penny, in for a pound. She laid the dress aside before going through the other choices. Short skirts and a few corsets to wear over shimmering thin long-sleeved blouses. There were snug blouses, a few more daring dresses. There were shoes to match everything. And she was in so much trouble.
“We’ll be meeting at a small dance club in town with Ian and Kira. We’ll have dinner at the attached restaurant and then drinks in the club,” Micah informed her as she stepped out of the bedroom after putting the clothes away. “We’ll be leaving here about seven.”
“Are Kira and Ian part of this agency you’re involved with?” she asked then. “The federal attorney said you were a private agency. What kind?”
He looked up at her from where he sat on the couch, his laptop opened and resting on the coffee table.
“A private group that sticks its nose in wherever it pleases,” he told her coolly. “We’re not an agency, Risa. We’re a team.”
“Perhaps I’d like to know exactly who my government has placed me in the care of,” she told him, irritation flaring inside her. “Jordan Malone was a SEAL, so were Clint and Ian. Were you?”
“Close,” he grunted. “What I was or what I am doesn’t matter in your protection.”
“Maybe it matters to me.” Maybe she needed to know who or what she was sleeping with every night.
She should have questioned it before; why she hadn’t, she wasn’t certain. She had been curious, but she’d also been overwhelmed by other things. Those other things had exploded in her face and now she was beginning to wonder if this would as well.
“I can understand that it matters to you,” he stated coolly. “Consider us a security firm. A group that goes in where other agencies can’t and gets the job done.”
“Mercenaries?” She couldn’t see him as a mercenary, though he was tough enough, hard enough.
“If you want to think ‘mercenaries,’ then fine.” He closed the laptop and gave her the full effect of his piercing gaze. “Do I seem mercenary to you?”
“You seem too arrogant and superior to me,” she informed him. “Tha
t would suit a mercenary, wouldn’t you think?”
“Met many of those, have you?” He rose slowly to his feet and moved toward her.
Risa remained still, despite the urge to retreat, to run from him. This wasn’t the Micah she had gotten to know. This Micah was harder, more determined, and he did nothing to hide the extreme sexuality that moved through him.
She didn’t know whether she should be turned on or scared to death. But her body was taking the decision out of her hands. It was burning for his touch.
“I’ve met you; wouldn’t that be enough?” Her toes curled into the carpet beneath her feet as he stopped. He was almost close enough that the broad T-shirt-covered chest was within a breath of touching the hardened tips of her breasts beneath her own shirt.
His lips quirked. “I can be very mercenary when the situation calls for it,” he assured her, his hand reaching out to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. “I can be so mercenary it would curl your little toes.”
Her little toes were already curled. The feel of his fingertips against her cheek as his hand drew back sent a surge of longing racing across her nerve endings. Her nipples peaked, her clit felt swollen, and the sexual hungers he had awakened with her began to pulse through her system.
“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” She had to force herself to remain in place, to ignore the heat flooding her system now.
His lips quirked; his black eyes watched her knowingly. “As well it shouldn’t,” he finally agreed as his fingertips trailed down her neck, creating a flood of sensation over her flesh. “It shouldn’t surprise you, Risa. Just as it shouldn’t surprise you to know that you can try to run all you want, but I’m going to end up fucking you again.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Not even on a bet.” But she was breathless, almost panting for the feel of him moving inside her again. She could feel the heat flooding her body, dampening her panties.
The quirk of his lips became a full-fledged grin. “You enjoy lying to yourself?”
“Do you enjoy lying to everyone else?” she shot back.
The grin eased away from his face. His expression darkened, became harder, colder. “When I need to.” He finally shrugged, but his fingertips were moving down her arm, gently, erotically. “Have no doubt, Risa, I have no problem lying when I need to.”
And that put her firmly in her place. He wasn’t above lying to her to catch Orion, but how far would the lies go? Her courage seemed to desert her at the prospect of asking that question, because she was afraid he would answer it. And he’d already proved he would lie to her. With his tender touches, his drugging kisses, and his too-experienced body.
“Do you know what I want to do to you?” he asked then, his voice lowering, becoming raspy as it stroked over her senses. “I want to push you against that wall behind you and pound into you while you’re screaming my name. I want to feel your tight pussy convulsing around my cock and hear you screaming my name. And when we’re done there, I’ll slide you to the floor and take you again. You’re within minutes of being fucked, baby. I’d move if I were you.”
She couldn’t move. She stared back at him, almost mesmerized by the black glow of lust that filled his eyes now.
His fingers moved from her arm to her thigh. His palm flattened, his hand angled and began to slide across her jeans-covered thigh, moving to the inside of it.
Her pussy pulsed and hummed. She could feel the flesh there swelling, preparing for his touch.
He was within an inch of the humid flesh when his cell phone rang, causing Risa to jerk in surprise as Micah’s jaw clenched.
The tips of his fingers were so close. The needs racing through her were so hot.
“Saved by the phone,” he murmured, moving his hand to pull the cell phone from the small holster on his belt. “Go ahead and run, Risa; we can finish this later.”
She was already running as he answered the phone, putting as much distance between them as possible and wondering if she would ever rebuild her defenses and have the control to simply tell him no. Even worse, she wished she wanted to tell him no.
COURAGE, STRENGTH, and sheer tenacity. Micah had seen each of those qualities in Risa that first night when she had sat at the club, battling her fears and the overriding certainty that she would be rejected.
It had taken her six years to get her nerve up to take a lover, but honesty compelled him to admit that she had taken that step far sooner than many women would have. She had the guts to do what she had to do. And she was doing far more than that when she stepped out of her bedroom in the chocolate silk tunic dress that whispered over her curves like a wet dream.
Matching four-inch-heeled pumps encased her small feet and made her legs seem to go on forever. Her skin shimmered with creamy translucence and the mounds of her breasts seemed in imminent danger of pressing out of the snug cups that made up the bodice.
Her long hair fell just below her shoulders, the multi-hued strands framing her delicate face as the subtle covering of shadow over her eyelids gave her a sensual, sleepy appearance.
Plump lips were covered with a hint of bronze lipstick, their natural pout intensified by the shimmering layer of color. It was enough to make a man pant in lust.
Hell, his cock was going to pound right out of his slacks and he swore his heart was going to tear through his chest as it raced in excitement.
She had a power over him that he couldn’t have anticipated.
He watched as she moved across the living room, the little matching purse she carried gripped in her hands. She shoved a key and a small leather wallet into the bag, then turned to him.
The look in her eyes broke his heart. Beneath the glitter of anger there were shadows of uncertainty. Feminine uncertainty, as though she were unaware of her effect on him.
“Remember that wall sex I mentioned earlier?” He watched her face flush as a hint of heat filled her eyes. “If we don’t leave, you’ll find out exactly what it’s like to grip my hips with those gorgeous legs while I pound into you.”
It was no less than the truth.
She inhaled slowly, deeply, lifting those luscious breasts against the silk as her nipples tightened beneath the material.
“I have a wrap. I forgot it.”
His teeth clenched as she moved quickly back to the bedroom. When she returned, it was with a thin silk wrap that covered her shoulders and breasts.
The whisper of silk was a seductive cadence as she moved past him and waited at the door.
Opening the door, he checked the hallway, aware of the backup weapon he carried at his ankle and the one he wasn’t wearing beneath his jacket. The rest of the team would be more heavily armed, but for Micah, there was only the weapon strapped to his ankle.
Holding his hand out to her, he drew her into the hall, checked each end once again, then moved back as the door to the opposite apartment opened and John moved quickly into Risa’s apartment.
“Have fun, kids,” he murmured as the door closed behind him and the locks snicked into place.
“This is ridiculous,” Risa hissed as Micah placed his hand on her lower back and led her to the elevator.
“No doubt,” he answered just as quietly. “Don’t worry, John doesn’t take up too much space.”
“No, he just cleans out the food in the refrigerator,” she stated. “Doesn’t Jordan feed him?”
“At least once a day,” Micah grunted as he shifted until Risa was protected on the far side of the elevator as the doors slid open.
“Well, hello, gorgeous,” Tehya murmured as she stepped into the hall, her long red-gold hair swishing around her as her green eyes filled with flirtatious humor.
Micah was aware of Risa stiffening beside him. She hadn’t seen Tehya coming and going from the other apartment, and had no idea who she was.
Micah nodded to Tehya, aware that her presence signified the all clear downstairs.
He escorted Risa into the elevator, ignoring her little glare as he pushed the lobby button and
stood slightly in front of Risa.
“You work fast,” she drawled behind him, almost causing him to wince.
“Be careful, sweetheart,” he warned her quietly. “Your pretty mouth is about to get you in trouble.”
He was about seconds away from spreading those pretty legs and making certain she tasted just as good as he thought she did.
Thankfully, before she could say anything more, the elevator opened, depositing them into the lobby. The doorman, Clive, had a wide smile on his hangdog face as Risa walked toward him.
“Now look how pretty,” he said, his eyes following Risa’s every move. “It’s good to see you out and about after that nasty wreck the other day. I couldn’t believe the news report when I saw it, Miss Clay. There are sure some nasty people in the world.”
“Yes, there are,” she murmured as Clive held the door open. “Thank you, Clive.”
“You’re always welcome, Miss Clay.” There was concern and curiosity in the older man’s face as Micah passed by him.
Clive was the perfect doorman for the upscale apartment, Micah thought as he hid a grin. Cultured, his nose just a little in the air. His bald head and the goatee and mustache gave the perfect impression of superior standing.
The limo was waiting in the drive with Travis at the wheel. The ex–MI6 agent moved quickly to open the back door and closed it firmly after Micah moved into the interior.
“So we have a limo at our disposal now,” Risa muttered. “What does your cover give for employment?”
“Navy SEAL and stock market analyst,” he answered. “That’s the work I do on the computer. It’s actually a hobby of mine.”
A hobby that had paid off in more ways than one. Micah had made some very interesting contacts through the few clients he had. Clients he had courted and now made use of in the interests of the team and the operations they took on.
Her lips pressed together as Travis moved into the driver’s seat and put the vehicle in gear. Micah hit the switch at the side of the door and raised the privacy glass between them as he watched Risa with a knowing quirk to his lips.
